Winter in Thrush Green by Miss Read

old school-fellow's bulk.
    'Don't want to sit on that stone,' advised Mr Piggott, dourly. 'Strikes up.'
    'Well, it does a bit,' confessed the lady, heaving herself to her feet. 'But I'm real whacked, walking against this wind.'
    'Best come inside, I suppose,' said Mr Piggott, grudgingly, but he made no move to open the door. He found his visitor a nuisance. Should he invite her down to the stoke-hole to dry out, he wondered? Thoughts of his dangling underclothes dismayed him. He had no desire to be the butt of Nelly Tilling's derision. His own cottage was cold and he did not want his neighbours to see him taking the buxom widow into it, for Nelly Tilling was reputed to be looking for a second husband after burying her first the year before, and Mr Piggott disliked appearing ridiculous. If he invited her to 'The Two Pheasants' he would have to pay for her, and that, of course, was unthinkable.
    On the other hand, Mr Piggott was surprised to feel a tiny glow within him as he watched Mrs Tilling shaking her gloves and brushing the drops from her enormous coat. After all, they had been to school together, it was a beast of a day, and the poor toad was likely to catch her death if she sat about in those clammy things without a sup in her. And, say what you liked, she was a fine-looking woman and Mr Piggott realised, with a shock, that
he had felt lonely for a long time. Somewhat to his horror, he heard himself saying:

    'Come and join me in a drink. I was on my way to "The Two Pheasants." '
    The lady's reaction to this innocent suggestion was alarming. Her rosy face became redder than ever, her dark eyes flashed fire, and indignation swelled her heaving breast to such an extent that her coat buttons strained from the cloth. She reminded Mr Piggott of a bridling turkey-cock.
    'I joined the Band of Hope the same day as you did, if you can cast your mind back that far, Albert Piggott! And what's more, I ain't never broke the pledge yet–which is more than you can say from what I hear!'
    She advanced upon the shrinking sexton to wag a massive finger in his face. Mr Piggott backed away nervously until his greasy cap knocked against a bland cherub who stared sightlessly from the porch wall. Nelly Tilling, in anger, was an awe-inspiring sight. She seemed akin to the natural elements which raged so furiously around her, and though taken aback at her onslaught, Mr Piggott found himself admiring her spirit.
    'No need to act so spiteful then,' returned the sexton, with unusual mildness. He rubbed his knocked head while he reviewed the situation.
    Nelly Tilling calmed down a little after her outburst and withdrew to study the weather from the doorway. Behind her sturdy shoulders Mr Piggott caught a glimpse of the inn's sign-board as it groaned and creaked in the gale. His thirst returned.
    'Well, gal, if you don't want a drop, I do,' he said ungallantly. 'Make yourself at home here, while I slip over. Stoking's thirsty work, and I ain't never made no boast about taking the pledge!'
    He made to edge past her, but the lady turned to face him, barring his way. Her red mouth was curved in a delicious smile. Albert Piggott found it both alarming and bewitching.

    ' 'Ere, let me—' he began weakly.
    'Albert, I wouldn't say no to a nice cup of tea, if I was to be asked over to your house. How about it?'
    Mr Piggott's fear of his neighbours' interest must have made itself apparent in his apprehensive face.
    ' 'Twould only be civil, a day like this,' pressed Nelly Tilling. 'I wouldn't stop more than a minute or two-just while the rain's so heavy.'
    Mr Piggott's expression lightened a trifle, but his mouth still turned down at the corners.
    'I can't stop long in any case," pursued Nelly, winningly. 'I've left a sheep's head boiling on the stove.'
    Mr Piggott allowed a half-smile to soften his seventy.
    'Sheep's head!' he whispered huskily. 'Why, I haven't had a bite of sheep's head since my Molly got wed!' His rheumy old eyes gazed unseeingly